A Woman of Gondor
by Esther Jade
Summary: Bryane has been scraping a living together as an archivist in Minas Tirith. As a gesture of kindness, Mithrandir introduces her to one of the Steward's sons but from this simple action many unintended consequences follow.
1. Chapter 1

Having securely placed the torch into its holder, Bryane deposited the pile of scrolls on the stone table in the middle of the room. It was a small, dark room full of paper and Bryane struggled to suppress a sigh as she surveyed the room that it was her charge to order. Irritated by the long strands of dark hair that kept drifting in front of her eyes, she undid the fashionable chignon done by her mother's nimble, but weak, fingers. She dragged her own slim fingers through her long hair before putting it up into a fastidious and far less fashionable bun.

She set her thin lips into a determined line and approached the table onto which she had just deposited her latest pile of scrolls. Flicking through them, she noticed that they were an odd mix of valuable records of the past kings of Gondor and much more mundane articles. She sighed. If that irascible old archivist would only let her order the scrolls already in the room before foisting yet more on her, she would feel considerably more at ease. Her terror at losing one of these valuable documents would only be second to her grief if she should do so.

She pulled up a rickety but serviceable stool and immersed herself in extracting the most valuable documents for storage in the one area she had been able to clear for this purpose. A small thrill went up her spine when she discovered a few pages from the Kin-strife with Eldacar's own seal on it. She barely restrained herself from reading it. If she began the attempt to decipher any of the feast of documents before her, she would never have the strength to return to the more mundane world of ordering them.

Gathering up the scroll of Eldacar, she set it on her special shelf, amongst her other most precious scrolls. As she was making her way back to the table to finish going through the stack, she was startled by a clattering on the stairs. She turned and watched as a man emerged round the corner of the stairwell. His shoulder-length brown hair framed a face full of warmth.

She started forward to greet him, holding out her hand. "Faramir!"

"Bryane," he said, taking her hand and holding it briefly to his lips. Bryane couldn't quite conceal the blush but hoped that the uncertain shadows cast by the torch would do that work for her.

"How goes it, Bryane?"

"Well enough."

Faramir glanced around the room, a slight smile coming to his lips. "Is there any order here?"

"A very little," she told him. "Every time I get it in the least bit ordered, he foists another load of scrolls on me and I do not have the space for them."

"This does seem a very small room, for such a lot of history."

"It is." Bryane made her way back to the table and sat down on the stool. For a second, she almost over-balanced. As she managed a brief glance at Faramir, she noticed the small smile that he allowed himself before averting his gaze from her awkwardness.

"What did the Healers say?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing new. But they gave Mother something to keep her spirits up and the pain at bay. She even insisted on doing my hair this morning." Faramir looked back at her and lifted one of his eyebrows. "It did look very nice but it was impractical so I had to re-do it." He put down his eyebrow.

"I leave tomorrow."

"For how long?" She couldn't help wishing it wasn't too long. Mother seemed to go through every new batch of medicine faster than the last.

"A while."

Bryane knew she wouldn't be able to conceal her disappointment so she turned her attention to her hands lying in her lap. She knew how far he was above her. She didn't have any claims on him but she had become dependent on his kindness.

"Father wants me to go to Osgilliath. Boromir has returned home and I think Father would like to have him close for a while before sending him out again."

"I see. That won't give you very much time with your brother."

"No." Bryane knew he was disappointed even if she couldn't hear it in his voice. The brothers were so very different but from the way Faramir always spoke of his brother, she had been able to ascertain that they were close.

Bryane tried to think of something else to say.

"It may be awhile before I return. Even once Boromir returns to Osgilliath, I think Father will want me to take charge of the patrols in Ithilien for a time. I will speak to Boromir about you and your family. Ask him to keep an eye on you while he's here."

"Thank you." Though relieved, Bryane couldn't quite conceal the slight wavering in her voice.

"My brother is not so very frightening as the stories make out."

Bryane looked up at Faramir, whom she thought looked slightly amused. She managed a grateful smile and he came forward, pulling up a stool to take a seat beside her.

"You mustn't worry so, Bryane." She couldn't look away from his eyes, so blue and so full of, well, something. "I wouldn't let you be abandoned."

"I know," she said but she wasn't sure he meant it. Kind as he was, he was the Steward's son and she was just an archivist. If Mithrandir hadn't introduced them just over a year ago, he wouldn't even be aware of her existence.

Faramir stood and as he did so, he briefly laid his hand on her shoulder. The small gesture comforted her and she smiled.

"That's better. Now I must get back. My brother and I have much to speak of and little time in which to speak. Good-bye, Bryane, and keep well."

"Goodbye, Faramir, and thank you." He smiled at her. A small lump rose in her throat. "Come back."

He smiled again. "I will."

-0-0-

"A woman, little brother?" Boromir cocked an eyebrow at Faramir.

Faramir looked away, abashed. "She's just a friend. She helps Mithrandir when he comes to the city. He asked me to look into her family circumstances and I did and have tried to help where I can."

"Is she pretty?" Faramir could hear the amusement still lingering in his brother's voice.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean..."

Faramir stopped speaking, cut off by Boromir's laughter. "Oh little brother, and here I was pitying you for being under Father's thumb all these months."

"It's nothing like that."

"If you say so."

Faramir shook his head. His brother didn't want to believe him and sometimes Faramir wondered himself if Bryane were just a friend. Did he want her to be something more? He wasn't sure.

He looked back at Boromir and shrugged his shoulders. Boromir indulged himself in a final chuckle.

"Shall we speak of other things?" Boromir asked and Faramir nodded his assent. "How about the defences at Osgilliath?"

"We do need to speak of them," Faramir said.

"We do," replied Boromir, sobering.


	2. Chapter 2

Bryane shook out the last remnants of the bottle into her mother's cup. There was only one bottle left and she hadn't heard anything from Faramir's brother. She bit her lip. Before he left, Faramir had sent her a letter saying he had spoken to Boromir and telling her to approach him if she needed anything. She didn't know if she dared.

She closed the medicine case, locking it securely. Then she placed it back in the cupboard next to the hearth and took the cup to her mother. Her mother slept in the larger of the two bedrooms. It was the room with the nicer view facing back towards the Houses of Healing and the more attractive parts of the city.

The room Bryane shared with her sister looked out over the street and they could often hear the overflow of taproom fights spilling outside. Her brother slept on the couch in the living room. Bryane was grateful the apartment wasn't smaller but in some ways something a bit smaller in a better part of the city would have been preferable.

Her mother's sleep was uneasy and even as Bryane entered the room, she was moaning in her sleep. Her short hair was wet against the sides of her soft face. The Healers had cut her hair to ease the uncomfortable heat that had dogged her mother since the beginning of her illness.

Bryane did not even need to wake her mother up as a spasm of coughing woke her from her slumbers. Bryane rushed to her mother's bedside.

"Here, mother," she spoke softly, "I'm here, with your medicine."

Her mother's eyes opened and when she caught sight of Bryane, she managed a thin smile. Bryane lifted the cup to her mother's lips but her mother took the cup from her grasp and drank the contents of the cup herself. Not bothering to fetch a chair, Bryane nestled against the side of her mother's narrow bed. She felt her mother's hand stroking her head and she nestled even closer.

"You'll catch cold sitting on the floor."

"I'd rather not fetch a chair."

"Bryane." Her mother's voice had a faint, but not serious, tone of chastisement in it. "How is your work going?"

"Well enough," Bryane said. "I've finally got them ordered into periods so now I can start categorising."

"That sounds good."

"It is." Bryane nodded. "Mother?"

"Yes, Bryane?"

"Do you ever wish I'd done something else? Tended the sick? Or tried harder to find a husband?" Bryane's voice slipped into a croak and disappeared.

She felt her mother's weight move in the bed and then she felt the soft brush as her mother kissed her head. "No, Bryane."

"I'd be able to help you more."

"Bryane, the work you do is invaluable, no matter what that old fool at the archives says. And it's what you care about. I wouldn't have you be any less than all that you are."

Bryane leant her head against the bed's hard frame. Her mother stroked her hair for a while but eventually her hand became still. Her breathing had eased and she was asleep. Bryane lifted up her own hand and covered the one that still lay on Bryane's head. The moments passed and Bryane listened to her mother's breathing, held her mother's hand. She closed her eyes, her forehead puckering. She knew what she must do and she must do it soon.

-0-0-

Faramir's seal had gotten her through all the gates to enter the top-most level of the Citadel. Bryane still couldn't believe she'd had the courage to come this far. But she knew she couldn't go back. She didn't want to bring her mother her evening medicine and know that in just one day, there would be no more left. She had to do this.

She walked across the courtyard, her eyes down, making sure she didn't look directly at the guards around the dead white tree. Even though she'd worn her best dress, she was sure something would give her away as being unworthy to be here.

The great stone hall stood in front of her but she passed by it to enter at a side entrance. There were a few guards on duty but no-one who looked likely to offer to point her on her way. Reluctantly, she approached the guard that looked to be the youngest. "Do you know where I could find Lord Boromir?"

The guard looked at her and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. Before he could say anything, the guard next to him, an older man, put a hand on the boy's shoulder and said, "He'll be in his study. Just follow the hall and turn left at the end. Go past the courtyard and you'll see a guard there. His name is Wereth. Tell him you're here to see the Lord Boromir and he'll show you in."

Bryane gave the man a grateful look. "Thank you," she said and hurried away.

His directions were easy to follow and Bryane was caught between hurrying to complete her task and the urge to linger, taking in the immensity of the building. The history that had gone into these halls.

She passed an enclosed courtyard. There was a fountain at its centre presided over by a delicately carved statue who seemed to be dancing a jig. The courtyard was still, far away from the hustle and bustle of the city. To Bryane, it seemed idyllic.

"Excuse me, can I help you?"

Bryane jumped and looked around to meet the eyes of a guard. "Are you Wereth?"

"Yes."

"I'm looking for the Lord Boromir."

"Are you? Well then, you've come to the right place. Follow me."

Bryane followed him into through a door and into a long passage. He turned to the first door on his left and opened it. "Go in. He won't bite."

Bryane eyed the guard and then edged her way into the room. It was dark except for the light coming through the window. Bryane doubted any work could have been done in the half-light hovering over the desk.

There was a man in the room but his back was turned to her as he stared out the window. He was tall and looked heavier than Faramir. When he turned round, he did so quite quickly and for a second, Bryane's breath was caught in the back of her throat. He was like Faramir but also quite different. His hair was straighter, for one, but, more than that, his air was more commanding, his gaze more piercing.

"What?" he said.

For a second, Bryane stared, unable to speak. But then her hand strayed to the letter she had already used so many times this afternoon. She drew it out, held it out but he made no move towards her.

Bryane pinched her lips together and then slowly made her way towards the man, this Captain of Gondor of whom she had heard so much. When she was closer, she stretched out her hand with the letter again. "Faramir said, he said I could come to you if I needed help while he was away."

"You must be Bryane." Bryane nodded. Boromir put out his hand but instead of taking the letter he caught her wrist and pulled her into the light coming through the window. Bryane gasped. She had just managed to keep her feet.

"Yes?" she said. Her voice was quiet but she was close enough to him that he must be able to hear it.

"I see." He paused but she could think of no words to fill the silence. She brought her arm back, cradling her letter protectively. "Yes, Faramir did mention you to me. I suppose I should have looked in on you but my duties seldom take me to the archives."

Bryane glanced up at him. He was watching her, his eyes narrowed. Bryane gulped.

"My mother, she's ill. Faramir helped me get the Healers to see her and to give her medicine. But her medicine, it's almost finished. And, and she needs more. I think she's dying." Bryane blinked back tears, confused by their sudden appearance. She had never cried in front of Faramir, though she had once before Mithrandir. But only that once.

Bryane gulped again, this time using it to pull back the tears. Then she looked up and her eyes were momentarily caught in the grey ones staring into hers.

"Well, if Faramir could help you will the Healers, then I am sure I can do no less," he said.

"Thank you," she said.

"And while you are here, why don't you eat with me?"

"Oh, no. Thank you."

"Nonsense. You must eat with me. I would appreciate the company."

Bryane nodded, signalling her acquiescence.

"Excellent."

He walked across the room to the door. She saw him glance back at her. He lifted his hand to invite her to precede him out the room. She made her way gingerly across the floor and went out into the dark passage. Not knowing where to go, she waited for him. He came out the door and opened another to her right.

"Call for dinner, Wereth, dinner for two," he told the guard standing outside the door and then closed it again.

"This way," he said and led her to the other end of the hallway and out into another, larger courtyard. This courtyard had a long table in it. Boromir took a seat on one side and indicated that she take a seat on the other. This Bryane did.

She studied her host. There seemed to be some amusement lurking in his eyes but she couldn't divine its source. Perhaps it was her appearance. She'd worn her best and done her best imitation of her mother's chignon but still, it was probably a far-cry from the way the ladies of the city dressed when they shared dinner with one of the city's lords. And here she was, with the city's favourite son and heir.

"So, tell me Bryane, when did you and my brother meet?"

"About a year ago. Mithrandir introduced us on his last visit."

"Mithrandir? Yes, I suppose he does spend a lot of time in the archives. Did he find anything interesting?"

"No, I don't think so. But I've been cataloguing the older pieces and I think I may have found a few pieces that may interest him."

"Like what?"

"I've found extracts from some old diaries – Earnil's, Eldacar's. Just yesterday, I unearthed a scroll with Isildur's seal."

"Isildur?" Boromir looked at her, his head tilted slightly to one side. "I wonder what my father would think of the archives spending its energy on remnants of the old kings."

"Oh, the archives are not." Bryane, who had been momentarily swept away by her enthusiasm for her favourite subject, felt quite awkward. "It's just me. I think the head archivist just has me do it to keep me out of the way."

"But you enjoy it?"

"Yes. I mean it can be very boring, organising, recording, deciphering pages and pages only to discover that the matters they are discussing are really quite trivial. But every now and then, I find a scrap of history." Bryane looked up at him, trying to communicate her feelings to this inscrutable man. "A scrap that tells you about where all of this comes from, what it's about, what's important."

Boromir smiled at her but to Bryane it seemed a slightly indulgent smile, like one gives to a child.

"I'm boring you," she said, looking away. She felt a pinprick of tears and was angry at herself. With so much else happening in her life, how could his indifference, his indulgence affect her?

"No," he said. "You sound a bit like my brother is all."

"He has a great love of lore. Don't you?"

"I do see the importance of it and it is good to know about where I come from. I'm just not quite so fascinated by it as Faramir. There is so much still to be done in this world that I just don't have as much time for lore as he does."

"You do have a lot to do."

"Yes. Every day our forces are stretched further in their defence of the West. But let us not speak of that now." He glanced to his left and nodded. Bryane followed his nod and was surprised to see that some servants had entered the courtyard. She felt quite awkward as they laid the dinner out on the table. How easily she could be one of them. She may get more respect as an archivist but she certainly didn't get paid as much.

Bryane's mouth watered as the food's smell infused her nose. Without her mother's injunctions ringing in her ears, she would never have selected her food daintily enough. But when she put the first, fresh tomato into her mouth, she couldn't help closing her eyes as she savoured it. She thought she heard Boromir chuckle and opened her eyes to see him watching her, with interest.

Unaccountably annoyed, she said, "What?"

"Nothing," he said, lifting a piece of fruit to his mouth with his knife.

Bryane turned her attention back to her plate. The fruit looked delicious; the meat smelt heavenly. Boromir allowed her to consume the rest of her meal in silence, uninterrupted by comments or chuckles. But all through the meal, Bryane could feel that his eyes were on her. She thanked her mother for every lesson that she had drummed into her in their years spent on the higher levels, before her father's death.

When she finished, the almost-invisible servants cleared the meal away. As all that uneaten food was taken away, Bryane couldn't help but feel guilty. She should have found a way to slip some in her napkin to take home to her family. She looked up at Boromir; Faramir had often given her food for her family but Boromir said nothing.

"I suppose you'll be wanting to get back to your family. It's getting late."

"Yes."

"May I escort you back?"

She bit her lip. Somehow, she'd always managed to avoid allowing Faramir to escort her home. He'd managed to ferret out her whereabouts in the city but that had been all; he'd never actually seen the place.

"It's a long walk. I'll be fine," she said.

"If it's a long walk, then let me take you on horseback."

"No, please. Don't trouble yourself. You've already done too much."

"I insist."

Bryane didn't know what to say to dissuade him. She followed him mutely as he led the way back along the hall. As they left his apartments, he stopped on the step and held out his arm for her. She obediently laid her hand on it. He walked briskly and she struggled to keep up with him while still trying to keep her hand elegantly resting on his arm. She thought she'd ended up squeezing too tight when he gave her a slight, side-long glance.

They reached the main entrance and courtyard and he summoned his horse. It seemed only moments before it arrived. She stared at the great beast.

"Have you ridden a horse before?"

Bryane shook her head. Before she knew what was happening, his large, strong hands were around her waist and she found herself being lifted onto the beast. She held onto the pommel for dear life until she felt his arms circle her waist as he jumped up behind her.

"Where to, my lady?"

"I live on the second level," Bryane said, her voice low. He must have caught her words because he set off straight away. Bryane clung to his encircling arm as he cantered down the levels. The city looked different from up here and she couldn't quite avoid the stares of the few city-dwellers still abroad at twilight. It was most disconcerting to be the centre of so much attention.

When they'd gone through the gates at the second level, he stopped. "Where next?"

She looked up at him, staring into his smiling face. "Here's fine," she said. "I can find my way home from here."

He smiled at her. "It wouldn't be very gallant of me to leave you anywhere short of your own front door." She would have jumped down from the horse then. But it was such a long way down. And what if the horse shied?

"I live," she paused, taking in a deep breath. "I live opposite 'The Last Inn'." His eyes narrowed briefly but then they set off once more.

They reached 'The Last Inn'. The usual raucousness seemed to be in full swing. Just as he pulled the horse up opposite it, a brawl spilled into the street. Two men were cuffing each other about the ear and a few more followed them out, shouting loudly.

Bryane felt the man behind her pull himself up straighter in the saddle. "What is going on?" His voice sounded strangely quiet and yet seemed to echo down the street. The men around the fight recognised him first, their eyes widening.

One of them reached out to grab the combatants and half-yelled, "It's the Lord Boromir." For a second, the combatants seemed as if they would continue fighting but then they stopped, quite still. They sprung quickly to their feet and all the men bowed, looking awkwardly around as if not quite sure what to make of the situation.

Boromir gestured angrily and they went back inside the inn, in a manner far more subdued than they had left it. Once the men were safely inside the inn, Boromir slipped out of the saddle and onto the street. He put his hands around her waist and Bryane placed her hands on his shoulders to balance herself as he lifted her down. She was close to him and it was almost with a pang of regret that she felt his hands release her waist. Momentarily dazed, she bit her lip.

She looked up to see he was glancing up and down the street. Never before had it been more apparent to her how narrow it was. Even in the moonlight, the paint peeling off the buildings was all too evident. She pointed to the house before the one he had set her down in front of. "That's where I live, on the second storey." It felt like she was confessing a terrible secret, instead of just where her home was.

"There?"

"Yes, I must go," she'd half-turned away before she thought better of it and turned back, "You will remember to speak to the Warden, at the Houses of Healing?" He nodded but she noticed his gaze was still transfixed by her second-story home. "Are you sure?" She hadn't wanted to question him further but everything would have been pointless if he forgot.

He looked at her properly now and gave her an unconvincing smile. "I'm sure. Don't worry."

"Thank you, for everything," she said and went into her home.


	3. Chapter 3

Bryane walked slowly, dragging her feet as she made her way home after work. She knew she had to go home, had to leave the archives but she didn't want to. In spite of the new medicine from the healers, her mother had slipped into an uneasy sleep. For two days, she hadn't woken up. She was still breathing and her body responded by swallowing when they forced medicine and broth into her but she never woke.

Bryane's brother and sister watched over her during the day. Bryane felt guilty in escaping to work but if she didn't go, they would have no money. Her little sister was too young to work and her brother was a few months short of the age at which the guard would accept him. It would be such a relief when his guard's pay was coming in.

She reached the corner of her street and noticed all the neighbours were gathered around. Men were bringing out their furniture onto the street.

"No!" Bryane flew down the street. When the men moving her furniture tried to go back into the house, she stood in front of them, blocking the way. "I've paid the rent. I have. You can't turn us out. You can't."

She felt strong arms enfold her from behind, pick her up and carry her out of the doorway. The men went back into the building. Bryane struggled against the person holding her. "No! No! Please! I've paid."

"Bryane!" the voice of the person holding her said. Whoever it was put her down and twisted her around. She gulped as she recognised the man: Lord Boromir.

"You're not being evicted, Bryane," he said.

"Then why are they bringing our things out?"

"I've organised better rooms for your family on the fifth level."

"The fifth level?" Bryane paused, shaking her head. "No," she whispered and then she looked up at him, "please, you can't." He looked at her, clearly taken aback. "You can't do that for us," she said.

"Why?"

"Mother, she'd be so upset. Faramir offered. He did. But she said we mustn't take it. People would think...would think..."

"Would think what?" Boromir said, keeping his voice low. Bryane was painfully aware that the street was filled with people, all of whom were probably staring at them.

"They would think that Faramir...that I... that we... had an improper relationship."

Boromir looked at her, his eyebrows arched. "And would that be worse than your family living here, in penury. Is your pride worth so much?"

"No!" Bryane covered her face. "It's not me... it's mother. It will upset her." She uncovered her face, looking up at him, inwardly begging that he would just accept what she said.

"Your mother is in no state to object."

Bryane gasped at his harsh words.

She turned and watched as her mother was brought out, still asleep in her bed, onto the street. "Oh mother." She stood, unable to move. The men held the bed ever so gently. It was insubstantial enough to have been a gurney and they carried it as if it were. They set off up the street.

"Come, Bryane," Boromir said, his arm encircling her waist as he led her towards his horse. "Let me show you your new home." He lifted her up and this time she was able to balance more easily against the pommel.

When he'd leapt up behind her, she turned. "What about the others? Our things?"

"My men will take care of it."

Boromir urged the horse to a trot and soon they were on their way up through the city. They passed the men carrying her mother's bed. Bryane kept the bed in sight for as long as possible but they seemed to be doing well enough. When she could no longer see it, she clung to Boromir hiding her face in his chest, not wanting to see all the people she knew would be watching. What would they be thinking?

Eventually, the horse stopped. "Bryane, we're here." She looked up and around. They were on the fifth level in a quiet courtyard off the main street.

Boromir jumped down and then turned to help her. This time, she clung to him just a little longer. She wondered if he'd noticed.

"Come," he said. He led her into one of the entrances off the courtyard and up a stair. On the second level, he pushed open a door and showed her into a spacious apartment. The room they were standing in was round and full of flowers. Off of it led several more rooms and a balcony. She counted three bedrooms. There was a living room with a much larger hearth.

And it seemed that little of their furniture would be needed. There was a large double bed for her mother, two beds in one room for her and her sister, a bed for her brother and all of them looked soft and comfortable.

"Thank you," said Bryane, mesmerised by everything around her.

"And I've organised for a woman to cook for you in the evenings and another to come and clean every day."

"I can't... we can't accept this."

"You have to," he said. His voice was stern and, on top of her awe of him, she couldn't quite bring herself to give up his magnanimous gift.

-0-0-

Bryane opened the door to her apartment. Two healers were standing in the main room, whispering to each other in muted voices. They had been here every day for the past six days, every day since Bryane's family had moved into their new home. Bryane closed the door behind her and one of them looked up. She was an old woman with a kindly face. She gave Bryane a big smile, "She's just woken up, dear."

For a second, it was if Bryane couldn't breathe and then she ran through to her mother's room. Her mother's head was propped up on just a few of the numerous pillows in the room. A serving girl was attempting to spoon broth into her mother's mouth. Bryane motioned to the girl to leave and took up the broth. Her mother waved her away, her expression still dazed. Bryane put down the bowl.

"Bryane, where am I?"

"In our new home," Bryane said, not sure whether to meet her mother's gaze or not. She settled on staring at the floor.

"Our new home?"

"Yes. About a week ago, Lord Boromir moved us here. He's been so kind, Mother, and he's had the healers come every day. If he hadn't... if they hadn't..." Bryane buried her head in her mother's blankets.

She felt her mother's hand stroking her head, something Bryane hadn't been sure would ever happen again. "Oh, Bryane," she heard her mother say.

Bryane managed to sit up, some of her hair sticking to her face. She pulled her hair angrily away, biting her lip. "I couldn't say no, Mother. You were so ill and he's... he's the Steward's son."

"You always said no to Faramir."

"Yes, but Boromir's different."

"Oh, my child." Her mother patted her hand, her expression concerned. "Bryane, I do not like to ask you this but has he asked you for anything?"

"No! Nothing."

"Good." Bryane's mother looked away. "But he might still."

"He won't."

"Oh, Bryane." Her mother peeled away some of the last hair still clinging to Bryane's cheek. "You are a beautiful girl, in a desperate situation."

"He won't."

Before they could argue further, two more people burst into the room. Bryane's younger brother and sister ran to their mother, flinging themselves onto the bed.

"Careful!" Bryane and her mother said at the same time.

-0-0-

"And so your mother is still getting on well?" Boromir asked.

"Yes. Thank you so much," Bryane said, trying to force all of her overflowing gratitude into the words. She was sitting again in the courtyard with the long table. This time, though, the food no longer seemed so strange to her. With Boromir's help, they had been eating well. For the first time, Bryane could give her mother food that she believed might actually help her.

"What did she say about your new accommodation?"

"She was upset." Bryane looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes. "But I think she accepts that it was for the best." Without looking up, Bryane pulled the bag she'd brought into her lap. Inside was a scroll that she'd brought specially. She drew it out and proferred it to Boromir. He took it from her, his forehead slightly furrowed. "It's a gift."

"What is it?" he asked her, as he slowly unfurled it.

"I found the scroll that recorded the victory of your namesake, from when he retook Osgiliath. I deciphered it and made you a copy in the common tongue. I thought you might like it. He was also a great warrior."

"Yes, he was. The first Boromir son of the first Denethor. Even the witch-King feared him, an acclamation that I fear I may not lay claim to. Thank you." Boromir closed the scroll once more and motioned to one of the hovering servants. "Would you take this to my sleeping chamber?" The servant bowed and withdrew.

Bryane smiled to herself, glad that her gift had not been sent to his musty and seldom-used study.

"That must have taken you quite some time."

"Yes, but then you have been most generous to us. And it seemed something that I could give you which you might not get for yourself."

Boromir smiled. "Do you think I am like the first Boromir, from what you read?"

"Yes. You are a great Captain and even if the witch-King does not yet fear you, there may still come a time when he does."

Boromir laughed, his grey eyes sparkling. "There are those who say I take more after Earnur."

"I hope not. The last King of Gondor was a brave man but not a wise one. He should have listened to your forefather and ignored the Witch-King's challenge. Or, at least, he should have left behind a wife and child."

"Yes, that was rather foolish of him," Boromir said and then he turned his attention to the generous meal before them.

-0-0-

Bryane stretched, rubbing her eyes as she got out of her bed. The one thing about the more comfortable bed is that it was much harder to convince herself to get out of. She smiled, rolling out of bed, her feet hitting the floor as softly as possible. Her sister slept on, oblivious.

Bryane pulled off her night-clothes and got into a daydress. She smiled as she felt the soft material against her skin. Boromir had insisted on giving her money for better clothes. She had been careful not to spend too much of it but it was heavenly to wear something so soft again. And something that actually fitted her.

She made her way to the hearth, easing the knots out of her long hair as she went. But when she noticed her mother's door was open, she stopped and went in. Her mother was sitting up in bed, staring out of her window.

"Mother?"

"Bryane. Come in." Her mother patted the bed next to her and Bryane sat down.

"What are you doing up?"

"I sleep all day so I keep odd hours." She paused. "And I'm worried."

"Worried?"

"About your brother. And about you."

"What's wrong with Felin? Did he have a bad first day at the guards?" Felin had finally passed his seventeenth birthday a week ago and had started at the guards just the day before. Bryane had wanted to be home to celebrate with him in the evening but she'd got a message that Boromir wanted her to have dinner with him. By the time she'd got home, everyone was in bed.

"Yes."

"I'm sure it'll improve."

"I'm not sure."

"Why not?"

"They said things about you, Bryane."

"About me?"

"Yes, and your relationship with Boromir."

"What relationship?" Bryane stood. She'd been trying to do her hair up but her hands were shaking too hard. "I've gone to dinner with him a few times. It's the least I could do after all he's done for us. Nothing's happened."

"Oh Bryane. It doesn't matter. People are talking."

"I don't care. If he hadn't saved us, you would have... you would have... I don't care what they say. I don't care."

Bryane's face was wet with tears of frustration and her mother's with tears of another kind. "Oh Bryane, I know. Sit down, my child. Let me put your hair up for you. You're ruining it."

Bryane sat down, still shaking slightly. She felt her mother's fingers winding into her hair, separating, joining, sorting. It didn't matter what anybody said; her mother was alive.


	4. Chapter 4

Bryane sat at the table, unable to concentrate on the scrolls in front of her. She gazed around the organised room, down at the charts that catalogued all her work, up at the ceiling too close for comfort. First, her discussion with her mother this morning. And now this.

She heard a clattering on the stairs behind her. She turned, ready to do battle against whatever new foe wanted to throw insults in her face.

But it wasn't a foe. "Faramir!"

"Bryane!"

She got up swiftly, almost knocking over the chair. He looked leaner than when he had left but he looked like himself. She smiled and held out her hand. He smiled and kissed it.

"It's good to see you again," he said.

"And you."

"It looks like you've gotten this place organised."

"Yes, it is much improved."

"And how is your mother?"

Bryane looked at him, cocking her head to one side. "Have you seen your brother yet?"

"Only briefly. He's closeted with our father who seems most uninterested in my return."

Bryane paused, not quite sure how to follow on from that. "Then he hasn't had a chance to tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Well, he moved us, to the fifth level. Mother was very ill. She wouldn't wake up." Bryane sat down. "And he moved us and had the healers come and she woke up. And she's doing a lot better only I don't think she wanted me to take his... his charity. But she would... would have..."

Faramir pulled up a chair beside her. "I'm glad, Bryane, I'm glad you took his help. You did the right thing. "

"I know. But now everyone's talking. And the boys in Felin's guard training are laughing at him. And the Head Archivist, he told me to stay out of sight. I don't think he dares dismiss me but he doesn't want people to know I'm here. And people... in the streets... They look at me. And I don't care. I don't care what they think. But..."

"Sssh, it's alright, Bryane. It's alright. I understand."

She managed a small smile and then looked down into her lap, not knowing what to say, what to think.

-0-0-

"Boromir, how could you?" Faramir said. He'd interrupted his brother in the training field, putting some guards through their paces. One look had passed between the brothers and Boromir had sent the men away.

"How could I what? Take her out of that hovel? Look after her?" Boromir's eyes blazed. "How could you leave her like that?" He threw his training sword down on the bench and grabbed a towel.

"I tried, Boromir, I tried."

"Not hard enough."

"I'm not saying you did the wrong thing."

"Then what are you saying, little brother?" Boromir put the towel down.

"You did the right thing. But you didn't have to do it like that."

"Like what?" Boromir's voice was softer now, less strident.

"In front of everyone. The whole city saw you take her home, at night, and then saw you move her family a week later. You paraded her through the city."

Boromir glared at Faramir so intently Faramir almost had to glance away. He nodded once. "Perhaps you're right. But I was just so angry."

"I know."

"How can things like that happen in our city?"

"They happen every day."

Boromir stared across the training ground. "Do you have feelings for her, Faramir?"

"Not like that. Do you?"

"I don't know. She's pretty enough. Very intense, I like to hear her talk. She reminds me of you."

Faramir half-smiled. His brother stood up straighter. "Come, let's go inside. What's done is done and I want to talk to you about other things." Boromir led the way into the citadel. Faramir followed.

-0-0-

"Bryane!" the Head Archivist's voice echoed down the stairwell. "Bryane!"

Bryane sighed. She had just been putting on her coat to leave. It was most unlike him to call for her, especially recently. Normally, he pretended she simply did not exist. She got to the top of the stairs and then she realised why. "Mithrandir!"

He grasped her shoulders. "Bryane, have you found the scroll of Isildur?"

"Yes."

He let go of her. "The one written after the war in Mordor?"

"I do not know. I cannot read the writing but perhaps you will be able to. I could only identify his seal." Infected by his sense of urgency, Bryane hurried down the stairs as she spoke, the wizard following behind. Once in the room, she made her way unerringly to the pile of her most ancient and most important finds. She pulled out the whole pile and placed it on the table. Then she extracted the one Mithrandir had asked for.

"Thank you, Bryane. You can go home now."

"Are you sure that's all?"

"Yes, thank you." He gave her a brief smile and she left.

-0-0-

She ran up the hill. All around her, she could hear the rumours growing, the panic spreading. Osgiliath had been taken in the night! She ran, pausing only when she had to, up to the highest level. It was strangely peaceful on the highest level. The guards recognised her, even though she hadn't been up here for some time now, and let her through.

She made her way to Boromir's rooms, not knowing what else to do. Both of the lords Boromir and Faramir had been stationed in Osgiliath for some months. What if they were both dead?

Wereth had gone with Boromir and was nowhere to be seen so Bryane let herself into Boromir's chambers. The long corridor appeared empty. She took a few faltering steps down the corridor. And then she saw a tall figure, only faintly visible in the darkness.

"Bryane?" the figure said. She dared to hope. The figure came closer and she recognised Boromir.

She wanted to fly to him, verify that he was real, not some phantom conjured by her panic. But she stood still, her hands shaking by her sides. "And Faramir?"

"He is safe too."

Bryane lifted a hand up to her mouth. "I was so scared. So scared when I heard. Some said there were no survivors."

"There were very few."

"And Osgiliath is taken?"

"Yes," he said, pacing away. "They came under the cover of darkness. Orcs and men from the East. Their numbers were great but they would not have overwhelmed us, save that a sudden fear stole upon us, filling some of my bravest men. We held the bridge until it was destroyed behind us. And then we swam across the river. Only Faramir, myself and two others survived the crossing. We had to withdraw from the city but we will return – we must retake the Western banks at least."

Bryane did not dare move. She watched him as he paced, his shoulders stiff and his bearing proud. The blood of Numenor must still ran thick in his veins. "This fear, what was its source?"

"I do not know but something in me says the Witch-king has returned."

"The Witch-king?"

"Smoke rises once more from Orodiun, Ithilien has become a dark place and it seems that the lord of Minus Morgul has come forth also," Boromir said. "And tomorrow we must muster our forces and take the West Bank back from him. We cannot allow his forces to become entrenched."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes." Boromir turned back to look at her but she could not make out the expression on his face. He came closer and for a second, it seemed almost calculating but then it softened.

"Bryane, if I asked you, would you marry me?"

Bryane's breath caught in her throat. She stared at him, unable to believe the words that had just left his lips. "Yes, my lord, I would."

"Good. I have had the writs done – they only need signing. I'm sorry but I cannot offer you a proper ceremony. I must leave tomorrow and I would like you to spend the night here."

Bryane nodded, unable to trust her voice.

He held out his hand to her and she took it, though her own was shaking. He pulled her into his embrace and she melted into it.


	5. Chapter 5

The victory celebrations continued on around them but, as usual, their father's presence had cast a dark pall on the proceedings. "So, you must leave at once?" Faramir asked.

"Yes, it would seem so. You saw how insistent he was," Boromir replied.

Faramir glanced through the broken archway next to him, glimpsing the men celebrating the retaking of Osgiliath. "It is a long way."

"Yes." Boromir stood, leaning against a wall, his expression distant. "Faramir, you will look after Bryane?"

"Of course, I looked after her before you did."

"Yes, but now I've married her."

"Married her?" Faramir was aghast, amazed.

"Yes." Boromir looked away. "You don't mind?"

"No, but do you love her?"

"I don't know." Boromir shrugged. "But she said something once about Earnur leaving no heir. Somehow, the spectre of the witch-King made me think that perhaps..." He shrugged again. "It was a foolish thought. Gondor's strength, whatever others may say about it diminishing, is still very great."

"So it is."

Boromir smiled, approached his brother and gave Faramir's shoulders a squeeze. "Remember this day, little brother."

-0-0-

"I don't want him to know," Bryane said, picking up a pile of scrolls and moving them across the room.

"Why not?" Faramir said.

"I just don't." She half-threw her precious scrolls down, unduly agitated by his prying.

"Are you afraid of my father?"

"Maybe," she said, wiping some sweat from his brow. "I don't know. But I want to go on, just as I am till Boromir returns. Then, then I'll figure it out." She sat down abruptly.

"War is coming, Bryane. You would be much safer on the higher level. You would have guards. Your family would be safe."

"We're safe enough."

"Well, if you're certain..."

"I'm certain."

-0-0-

Bryane had never been to Faramir's rooms before. As if in reflection of the brother's different characters, his rooms were far more welcoming than Boromir's. And smaller.

His study had more light shining into it. The scrolls on his desk looked as if they had actually been touched since first being placed there. Bryane waited, wondering why she had been summoned.

She heard a sound behind her and turned. Faramir stood there and his face was wet with tears. His lips were tightly pursed but the lower one quivered slightly. "No," Bryane said, her voice almost a whisper. "No."

Her eyes fell. She felt movement and then Faramir was beside her. He took her hands in his own. "We found his horn. It was cloven in two. And I know, I know he's gone."

Bryane shook her head, willing the words away. And then she crumbled onto the floor, into his arms and wept.

Much later, Bryane huddled there, still in Faramir's arms. Her face was still wet but her eyes were dry.

"I should have gone," Faramir said. "I offered but Father would entrust the charge only to Boromir. Only now does he wish he had rather sent me."

Bryane pulled herself upright. "No, he can't."

"He does. Don't you?"

Bryane shook her head. "I could never make that choice. Neither could your father."

-0-0-

Bryane ran through the streets, the sound of Mordor's armies resonating in her ears. Every so often, she heard great rocks rushing over head either directed at the city or from it. When the rocks were directed at the city, the whistling was followed by a great crashing as towers fell, houses crumbled.

She ran on, pushing her way through the crowds making their way up and the guards making their way down. Horses clattered down the streets and she had to dodge both hooves and rubble. The volley of flying heads had ceased, thankfully, and no bodies lined the streets yet. A few were crushed beneath the remnants of their homes but Bryane averted her eyes and kept running.

When she finally reached the side-street that led to the courtyard where their apartment was, she looked up. For a second, she had allowed herself to hope, sure that home would be here when she reached it. But a great rock of Mordor had smashed into the area and her home was gone.

Her mother was gone. Perhaps her sister.

Bryane's knees gave way.

Not this. Not now. Boromir was dead and so, the rumours said, was Faramir. His body had returned from his ill-fated ride on Osgiliath but that, it seemed, was all. Her mother. Her sister. Who knew where her brother was?

Bryane knelt in the streets and a strange wailing filled her ears. Belatedly, she realised she was keening. People rushed passed. No-one stopped. The world was falling around her but within her, it felt like it already lay in ruins.

And then a strange tug in her stomach. She felt the ripping pain tear through her gut. No. Not now. She pushed herself to her feet, again registering the chaos that surrounded her. The Houses of Healing would be overflowing but it was the only place she could think of to go. The tearing pain was fading but something told her new waves of it would assault her soon.

Bryane made her way through the streets, shielding her throbbing stomach from the rushing masses. Fortunately, she was well-recognised at the Houses of Healing and they let her in easily enough. Just as she entered, she caught the eye of a Healer she knew well. The Healer approached her.

"Bryane, what's wrong?" the Healer asked.

But Bryane could not answer because, just then, the pain returned. She clenched her teeth and, then, as the pain reached a crescendo, she passed out.

-0-0-

The City was so quiet. Aragorn had led all men still able to fight out to the gates of Mordor. Faramir was still weak physically but somehow he felt stronger than ever. The quest would succeed and the king would return to be crowned in the city. And Faramir had found the woman it felt like he had been waiting for all his life.

Faramir heard a light step behind him and turned to see Eowyn, smiling. She was so beautiful and even the tragedy that followed her seemed to only make this pale beauty all the more lovely. She held out her hand. He stood up and took it. It was not soft as some women's hands were. These hands had handled reins many times and a sword more than once.

They walked through the gardens, allowing the peace around them to be a balm to their spirits. Faramir knew that Eowyn had still not found peace within herself but she was very much on the mend.

As they reached the end of their walk, they were startled by the sound of a woman crying. They walked around the bend and discovered a young healer being comforted by an older one.

Eowyn released Faramir's hand and approached the women. "What's wrong?" she asked.

The older woman looked up. "One of the girls' patients took her life in the night."

"Why?" asked Eowyn. Faramir could hear the startled tone in her voice.

"The young woman came in a few days back. She used to come here all the time with her sick mother so Feira knew her a bit. But she was pregnant and all the chaos brought the birth on early. She still had a little while to go. Some babies that early do survive but this one didn't. We asked about the father and seems he was dead too. Poor girl. I don't think she could face it. Feira found her this morning on her rounds."

"Oh, I am sorry," Eowyn said, patting the young woman's shoulder. She glanced briefly back at Faramir and he gave what he hoped was a supportive look. "What was the girl's name?"

Feira looked up from her weeping. "Bryane. She was an archivist."

Faramir gasped. "Bryane?" he repeated.

"Yes," said the older woman. She glanced up at Faramir. "Didn't you know her? I can't remember but wasn't it you that paid for her mother's medicine. Though, it might have been your brother."

Faramir took a step back, shaking his head. Eowyn rose again and stepped closer to him. He grabbed her hand and led her away from the pair of Healers.

"What is it, my love?" Eowyn asked.

"Bryane was my brother's wife. It was a secret. I didn't even know she was pregnant. I haven't seen her for months." Faramir felt Eowyn's strong arm encircle his waist. He held on to it as if it could support him. "I should have made her reveal herself, should have made her live in the citadel."

"It's not your fault."

Faramir covered his face with his hands. "Oh, Eowyn."


End file.
